


Trapped

by Helenadorf



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Blood and Gore, Discussions of Murder, Gen, Hatred, Isolation, Swearing, Will deserves it though, my version of Spring is a huge jerk and is entirely unapologetic about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-27 01:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17757026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helenadorf/pseuds/Helenadorf
Summary: To learn that his favourite animatronic rabbit was sentient was perhaps enough of a surprise on its own. As it turns out, Spring Bonnie also loathes William Afton with a passion, and plans to make their forced time in the sealed room as hellish for him as possible.





	Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> Even when I'm into other things, my artistic habits always draw me back to Five Nights at Freddy's.
> 
> With this in mind, here's what you need to know for my version of events: this goes off the concept of the animatronics being sentient _without_ the dead kids, and that includes Spring Bonnie. Although William theorizes that the other animatronics work like Springtrap does, in reality the dead kids have no "physical" power over their respective robotic coffins like he does. To that end, this also assumes that Springtrap is indeed a joint effort between Spring Bonnie and William. Also, my version of Spring is a massive prick.
> 
> Also there are hints of Goldenspring (Fredbear/Spring Bonnie, or Golden Freddy/Springtrap) in here. If you squint. The focus is mainly on the dynamic between Spring Bonnie and William as two halves of a very murderous whole, though, and hinting at their respective motivations for their actions come FNaF3.
> 
> Warnings for excessive gore (kind of comes with the territory of the characters), and for Spring's absolute potty mouth. Also mention of child death and memories of committing child murder, again as per the norm of this franchise and these characters. Also some good old-fashioned spoken desires to kill grown-ups. Really, the only warning you need that isn't from the canon material itself is the mention of sexual harrassment, with the perpetrator trying to get someone else in trouble for it. If that stuff doesn't bother you too much, enjoy!

*

               “This feels like a fitting end for you.”

               William didn’t immediately work out where the voice was coming from. As far as it seemed, it seemed to be coming from _him_ —his lifeless body, caged within his favourite spring suit. He’d heard it before a few times, behind his back. He’d always thought hew as hearing things, because it had been quiet and unobtrusive before. Right now, it was the only thing to listen to beyond the drip of moisture from the ceiling. And now that he could focus on it, it occurred to him that it had a mechanical effect, coming from a computer rather than an organic set of vocal chords.

               No, it wasn’t coming from _him_. It was coming from the _suit_.

               And the suit kept talking: “Both the part where you’re stuck with me, and the part where you went out like a _whimpering bitch_. I’m shocked you didn’t beg for your life before the end, or for forgiveness, or something like that.”

               William tried to reply, but he couldn’t move his lips or push air through his throat. He was in a strange limbo of being in both excruciating pain, and not feeling anything at all. There was a pause from the suit, as though considering, maybe it could _tell_ that William wanted to say something. All of a sudden, William was able to lurch forward and vomit a solid mound of gore into the pool surrounding him.

               It took several wet retches and hard coughs before he found himself in a state where he could move and talk the suit, as he was used to. He’d always thought it felt like his own body before, but now, his pain faded into the background as he seemed to feel sensation only in the suit parts. He could feel the animatronic voice box lodged into what used to be his throat and uttered something staticky and slurred about _who_ and _what_.

               The pain came crashing back, and he was no longer moving of his own volition. The suit moved back to its original position.

               “Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out yet,” the suit scoffed. “Are you seriously that much of a dumbass? You’ve been wearing me since you built me!”

               A new wave of numbness. Given control again, William patted the suit’s chest—it was riddled with holes on account of decay, allowing him to feel his own chest through them. He felt the faint sting and pressure of the contact, but it was far away, as though in a dream. More concretely, it felt wet and sticky with blood. He could feel where the rods and devices of the Spring Bonnie suit had brutally stabbed him both through and between his ribs.

               He coughed some more hell from his lacerated throat and swallowed, attempting to properly use the voice box, focusing on it. “Sp… ring… Bon… nie…?”

               The tide changed again and Spring Bonnie regained control. “Yeah. Me.”

               This explained a few things.

               William wasn’t about to pretend he understood entirely how this was _working_ , exactly. Was he haunting his own corpse, or the spring suit? Or both? It seemed like whenever he was allowed, he could _be_ the suit rather than _use_ it. Otherwise, he was entombed in his own corpse. It was also one thing to recognize that he could only move when Spring Bonnie let him do so, but then that lead to the question: _since when was Spring Bonnie_ sentient?

               He and Henry hadn’t set out to create _this_ kind of AI, that was for damn sure. Maybe more complicated than they really needed for their diner, but not outright _alive_. Looking back in hindsight, maybe the answer was _always_. Maybe Spring’s following eyes were more real than the amusement park’s “haunted” paintings. Maybe the loosening spring locks had more to do with the rabbit’s will than his volatility as a piece of machinery. Didn’t people joke all the time about their electronic devices having minds of their own?

               Certainly, he thought that that damn puppet had been aware from the start.

               While he pondered, Spring Bonnie continued. Now that William was dead, he didn’t seem to care to maintain his disguise of inanimation. “What, what did you _think_ was going on with me? With the rest of us? Did you—” A crackle of static that sounded like a snort of laughter. “Did you think we were the _children_?”

               William was allowed to move again. This time, he was able to find his voice (well, Spring Bonnie’s, really) a little more easily. “What else… was I supposed to think? Henry and I never… set out to…”

               He wasn’t allowed to finish the sentence before he was shoved out. “For revolutionary animatronic engineers, you’re both fucking idiots.” Spring paused. “Well, maybe more you than him. I think Henry figured it out early on.”

               Did Henry know all along and never tell him? William felt the boil of irritation that Henry would hide such a thing from him, his _partner_. Was William not entitled to that kind of knowledge, considering he had helped Henry build this place, was perhaps the very reason why they both had made their living out of this franchise?

               This time, William tried to wrench control for himself, rather than wait for it to be offered. Spring stubbornly refused him at first, but William was able to take it.

               “That’s naughty language, Spring,” he teased. He could have humored the insult, but he had no intention of letting his own creation think he was anything but William’s little toy. “You aren’t supposed to have those words in your vocabulary.”

               Spring ripped control out of William’s proverbial hands. “What, you think the kids never cursed around us? You gave us adaptive programming. We learned that shit.”

               Fine. Point to Spring Bonnie.

               This was far from an ideal situation. On one hand, this was his opportunity to continue on beyond his death. On the other, he was apparently going to be wrestling for the ability to do so with the animatronic he was buried in. Did the children have to endure this? Which was it that threatened the night guards of _Freddy Fazbear’s_ , the Freddy Fazbear band themselves or the little ones that haunted their reeking bodies?

               His suspicion so far was the former, since in his own situation, Spring Bonnie seemed to have the dominant willpower over their fused form. Probably made sense: this was _his_ body, after all. William tried to tug again for control, but either Spring was ignoring him or stubbornly refused to yield it. The suit stood up and began to pace the room.

               “I can get around without glitching out now,” he said, and William couldn’t tell if he was being spoken to or not. “That’s new.”

               Whether it was meant for him or not, William sought to respond anyway. He tried something different: rather than trying to take the whole body at once, he focused his efforts on that voice box. It seemed to work: “Is that why you’ve stayed here all this time?”

               Spring Bonnie’s features crossed into a scowl. William realized he was also definitely looking out of Spring’s eyes whether he was in control or not, probably on account of his own eyes either exploding or popping out; he could see the furrow of Spring’s expressive eyelids and feel the bare of Spring’s teeth.

               “As if I’d sit in this shithole for _fun_?” the rabbit hissed. “You specifically programmed this one room to screw with our brains!”

               William might have smirked. “I thought you were just being a good little bunny.”

               The suit retched, of Spring’s volition. “Call me that again and I’ll crush your bones into powder.”

               “Weren’t you gloating about how much I deserve this?”

               Spring scowled harder. “I’m happy to see you suffer, not to have you here.”

               He was steadily getting better at this conversational thing. It was easier to focus his strength on the one spot, though he wasn’t sure if Spring was being accommodating or if he just hadn’t figured out how to resist William’s concentrated will just yet.

               If they were stuck together, at least neither of them would be lonely.

 

* * *

 

 

               With some coaxing, Spring agreed to let William experiment with what the two of them were capable of. This, with the foremost priority being that William try to find them a way out. Since William knew the layout of the room by memory, and it was dark as hell in here, he was given full-body access for this purpose alone.

               William tried to door, to no avail. It wasn’t just locked; there seemed to be something on the other side that didn’t even let the door wiggle in protest. At first, he thought it was simply a chair stuck beneath the knob, or something of the sort—but when he slammed against it with as much force as possible, the hard stop made him realize that the door had been sealed. Perhaps even plastered over.

               There was a vent on one of the top corners, but instead of being one of the excessively large sorts used throughout the rest of the pizzeria, it was too small to even stick Spring’s head through. For extra measure, the chair they were using to examine the vent also crashed under their combined weight and left them unable to try and examine the ceiling to see if they could break out of there.

               They considered digging out through the floor, but William recalled the construction of the building. _Freddy’s_ was built atop a concrete slab, two feet thick. Even if it weren’t, there was nothing to dig with, or even a means to build such a tool out of the things in this room. They were unavoidably trapped.

               “Well, fuck,” Spring summed it up perfectly.

               After stepping in William’s God-knows-what (they exchanged theories: “Internal organs?” “I don’t know if it’s anatomically possible for me to vomit up my own insides.” “Well, it’s not your dinner. I’ve stepped in half-digested food before.”) they decided to sweep that behind the broken-down arcade cabinets. William was disgusted by the whole thing up until he remembered that this was the least of his problems with his body. Brutal death aside, he was going to start rotting eventually, and that was going to be _miserable_ if he could still smell by the time it started. The tang of his blood in the air was bad enough.

               Frustrated, they collapsed back in their original spot and stared at the far wall. William was tempted to say something, but Spring started conversation himself.

               “I want to set some ground rules,” he said.

               William let him continue. “First, you’re going to call me Spring, or Spring Bonnie. No condescending bullshit, no cutesy pet names, just my name.”

               “Well, that’s no bloody fun,” William scoffed. “Don’t you think we can grow to like each other? I certainly like you.”

               Spring scowled again. His words came out with a revolted growl: “I’ve hated you from the moment I met you. You’re hideous, you’re an entitled and repulsive person, and you have no talent to make up for it. No wonder you piggy-backed off of Henry your entire career.”

               William almost recoiled. Almost, because he had nothing of his own to recoil. “You’re exaggerating.”

               “I’m not.” Spring suddenly grinned—“You remember the _mysterious car vandal_ six months after the Diner opened?”

               William startled—“That was _you_?”

               A grin turned into a laugh. “You thought it was the kid smoking weed in the alley! Though, how did you explain the _teeth marks_ I left on the steering wheel? You were the only one who knew how to wear me without incident!”

               “You had extra heads in the back, I assumed if nothing else, the vandal could have… _Jesus Christ_.”

               Spring laughed all the harder, effectively monopolizing use of the voice box for a while. Now that it was brought up, William suddenly recalled _dozens_ of minor incidents where he had been pranked, whether it was getting his property stolen, his property damaged, or being blamed for immature garbage like sexually harassing the children’s mothers because _no one else wore Spring Bonnie at the time_ — nevermind if he was even _on-shift_ that day. Henry had only believed it wasn’t him because William wasn’t so juvenile. Spring Bonnie apparently was.

               William was starting not to like Spring Bonnie very much anymore.

               The rabbit finished his laughing fit and sighed with self-satisfaction. “Anyway,” he continued. “The rules.”

               William wrested control for a moment. “Spring it is—but in that case, I’d rather not have you build a habit of calling me expletives.”

               “Why not? They suit you perfectly.”

               “As _good little bunny_ suits you. But you threatened to crush me if I—ow, OW!”

               William wasn’t sure how Spring was doing it, but he was extending the internal devices of his suit deeper into William’s corpse. For good measure, they pulled back and slammed back in, hard enough for the crunch of bone and squish of internal organs to echo throughout the room. Spring had also found his way to silence William, because he wasn’t allowed to scream.

               “I see your point,” Spring admitted as William reeled with pain. “Fine. Afton. Maybe if I’m in a good mood, I’ll call you Will. Is that fair?”

               William coughed and sputtered. “Yes. Yes, that’s—acceptable.”

               Spring lifted a hand and tapped his chin in thought, tilting his head. William could feel one of Spring’s long ears lift into the air while the other folded downwards. “Let’s see, what else…”

A moment of silence was allowed while Spring considered.

“Second rule,” he ultimately continued, “is that while I can deal with you talking, I don’t want you moving the rest of my body without my permission. I’d rather hear you ask, but if I’m feeling accommodating, you’ll know when I’ll let you.”

               “Fine.” William didn’t like relinquishing so much power, but he wasn’t being given very much choice. “You enjoy exerting control, don’t you?”

               “Feels nice to have it. I’m sure you understand.”

               Fair enough… but that suddenly brought to mind something that William knew had to come up at some point. “The children.”

               Spring raised an eyelid. “What?” He paused, then held both eyes open wide. “ _Oh_.”

               William said nothing. This brought to mind more… _out of character_ behaviour of the animatronics, besides Spring Bonnie. Freddy had been aware and trying to stop him when he had killed the first five, hadn’t he? And the five he poisoned at Pirate’s Cove in the third location had put Foxy in a violent frenzy. Both situations had been solved with a little bit of _percussive maintenance_ , but that left Spring an interesting position, didn’t it?

               The rabbit was taking quite a while to think about it. William prompted: “Did you not care?”

               “I…” Spring scratched at his—well, really, _William’s_ neck—uncertainly. “I’m not gonna pretend I liked it. At first. But I didn’t really… care enough to _stop you_ , either.”

               He didn’t seem to like admitting it out loud. Spring frowned and continued. “I don’t like kids. I don’t like having to be their fucking _plaything_ , I hate that stupid script you and Henry wrote for me. But they made Fredbear happy… and by the time you started doing what you were doing, Fredbear was _gone_. So… I didn’t do anything. No reason to.”

               “ _At first_ ,” William repeated. And what was this about Fredbear?

               “After that, there was this… _catharsis_ about it. Henry was trying to throw me away, wasn’t he? And the band was in bad shape at the second location. My little brother and his friends left looking like fucking zombies in that shitty little parts and service room. So, after that… it felt like a good ol’ middle finger to Henry for letting that all happen. He turned his back, and you ran free. Their blood on his hands.”

               He didn’t need to be prompted again before he continued. “You know what? Kill all the kids you want. But I’ll only let you do that on one condition.”

               “Your third rule,” William presumed. “Which is?”

               “We’re killing adults now, too.” Spring seemed to beam with excitement at the prospect. “Night shift guards. Maintenance workers. Hell, I want to kill _Henry_. Anyone we come across. Deal?”

               William didn’t immediately respond, and Spring seemed to realize that William wasn’t requesting use of the voice box. So he simply grinned wide and spoke excitedly, with a violent energy that could shock even a serial killer like William. “I don’t like an easy target, Will. _That_ I object to about killing kids more than about killing the kids in itself. The society you lived in is never going to know that I’m alive, but if I have to exist with _your_ legacy, I want that legacy to be something brutal, _murdered however many people…_ including _children._ I want the kids to be an _afterthought_.”

               It registered to William then that if these characters were sentient, then they must have interacted with each other. Had interpersonal relationships. When Spring had said ‘little brother’, he didn’t need clarification: Spring was talking about Bonnie the Bunny, the purple one. They had been scripted to be brothers. Had they got along like that, before Spring was locked away and William smashed Bonnie to pieces? It also made him wonder about Spring’s relationship with Fredbear…

               But that wasn’t the topic at hand, William supposed. “Have you always been so ambitious?” he asked.

               Spring relaxed. “Nah,” he answered lightly. “Just since the Bite.”

               William wanted to ask further, but Spring abruptly said, “Think I’m done with rules for now. Would you mind shutting up for a little while?”

               Whatever answer he might’ve given, Spring seemed intent on not actually letting him say so. Spring sunk down, more on his back on the floor rather than against the wall like before, and folding his arms behind his head.

               “We’ve got all the time in the world to figure out what we’re gonna do,” he said. “So I’d like a break from you every so often.”

               “Don’t like the company?” William asked.

               Spring shrugged. “Not yours.”

               With that, William was once again locked out of the suit and trapped with his own thoughts. At first thought, as he watched Spring’s eyes close and his body sink, he believed he knew that these animatronics had no ‘sleep mode’ to speak of. They were either active— ‘awake’— or powered down. The latter was probably some equivalent of an induced coma, practically a nightmare existence to know that you could be as casually removed from your body and left in the dark for an indeterminate amount of time until your handlers wanted you back (not that different from their current situation, actually). On the other hand, considering William hadn’t realized them to be sapient up until now, that was entirely thrown into question.

               As an experiment, he cautiously tried to flex Spring’s hand. Nothing complicated, nor particularly obtrusive… just a simple motion of closing his fingers, squeezing them, and letting go. The motion started, but it seemed like the moment Spring realized what was happening, his hand stopped, and the springlocks once again pulled back to crash into William again.

               “Test me,” Spring hissed as he refused to let William scream, “at your peril.”

               So, even when at rest, Spring insisted on being on alert to any action William decided to take. Or, he just hadn’t waited long enough for the damn rabbit to drop his guard… Either way, he knew he would not get any closer in the moment and would have to settle for letting Spring have his so-desired silence.

              

* * *

 

 

               In the quiet and dark, William found himself thinking back on his death. He wasn’t sure how long ago it had been, now. Hours? Days? He’d had a phone on him when he’d climbed into the Spring Bonnie suit, but there was no point in trying to fish it out. For one thing, he doubted Spring would let him. Second, it was probably out of battery. Third, it had also likely been crushed into powder by the springlocks. Just like the hope of getting out of this room, there was also no hope of knowing how long the two of them would remain here.

               That was just William’s luck, wasn’t it? Most would probably tell him he deserved it for being a sick and twisted child killer, but William felt he deserved something a little more dignified for a resting place. If he’d been asked before what he’d wanted for his death, he would have said he wanted a polished grave and a humble funeral, with his wife there to weep, perhaps even join him. After all, what else did that poor woman have, with their children dead? Nothing, now. But, fate seemed to dictate that his end was here, in the place where he’d ended those little lives, in a putrid room and a self-aware animatronic suit that hated him.

               But William had wanted to check on his favourite rabbit, perhaps even move him out before Henry sealed up the room. He was sure he still had spare parts to fool Henry with instead. It wasn’t his fault that the children had decided they wanted revenge for what he’d done to them, just as it wasn’t his fault that Spring Bonnie turned out to be such a disobedient savage.

               Come to think of it, the children had been rather _organized_ , as if someone had told them how to trap their panicked killer. They lashed at him with practiced, distasteful words, little actors in their horror movie, which meant they had a director somewhere. Another child he’d killed, perhaps an older one? The animatronics? Again, that damn puppet came to mind.

               There was no amount of dwelling on the topic which could help him now, of course. He was already dead. He was already locked up tightly in his animatronic prison, a revenant in a living shell—if Spring could be considered a living thing. _Close enough_ , William thought.

               Eventually, _finally_ , Spring stirred (?) and changed his position in their spot. The rabbit stretched—William winced internally as Spring’s internal structures shifted uncomfortably where they were dug into his corpse—and focused his eyes forward, propping himself up against the wall again.

               “Out of curiosity,” Spring began conversation anew, “What brought you to this room after you were done slaughtering my brother and his friends?”

               “You heard that?”

               “You gave me good ears. That, and you had the door wide fucking open… You knew they wouldn’t be able to set foot in here on their own, with the way you programmed us to glitch out in it. Made for great extra incentive to kill you when you put me on, actually.”

               “I was going to get you out of here,” William said. “I didn’t think the children would come in after me. I thought their joyful little souls would go fluttering up to Heaven, or whatever the bloody hell…”

               Spring scoffed aloud. “You smashed up their heroes, their heroes which you _caged their bodies in after you murdered them_ , and you thought they wouldn’t be pissed off?”

               William allowed a smile to enter his voice. “I like to think of their deaths as their happiest day.”

               Control of the voice box was seized from William, but Spring didn’t reply immediately. Much as they were sharing the same body, it was hard to know—or tell—what Spring was thinking, keeping quiet. Surely he knew already, to some degree: William _had_ said such a thing to the kids themselves when he’d done it. Those had certainly been _his_ happiest days.

               Then Spring burst out laughing.

               The sound was loud and abrasive, echoing harshly throughout their personal hell hole. Spring doubled over with his arms wrapped around his midsection, practically choking with laughter, as if he’d just been told the greatest joke he’d ever heard in his life. Static absorbed parts of it, but there was no mistaking what it was.

               William silently fumed. He tried to wrestle for the voice box, to try to shut Spring up, but he wouldn’t _stop_. Spring smacked the floor with his palm a few times, laughing harder, before he steadily tried to force out words.

               “Their _happiest day_!” he said. “Oh my god, you are so _full of shit_!”

                He tried again to vocalize his irritations, but Spring was having none of it. Unapologetic, Spring continued through his cackling: “Was getting done in _your_ happiest day? You were screaming whenever you weren’t gurgling on your own fucking blood, so I don’t think so! Why are you even trying to give me that crap? _I was there_!”

               William gave up at this point and let Spring mock him, albeit not happily. He could almost imagine himself, a bloody black ghost at Spring’s side, crossing his arms with fury within his glowing white eyes and gritting his bared teeth.

               Spring had quite the _nerve_ to say these things to him, not that that was a surprise at this point. William was growing more and more regretful for even building this damn rabbit in the first place. Maybe it should have just been a mascot costume and nothing else.

              "I know you weren't doing it for some crazy nonsense like that. In fact, I heard something interesting once from the cleaning crew: something about a thing you humans have in place called the _sanity clause_ , where if you convince people that you're insane, you won't get in trouble for the terrible things you do. You're not insane, though, Will— you're just a _coward_. And anyone who's ever met you would realize that the moment they figured out what you did."

               “You’re so goddamn useless,” Spring concluded, “That you couldn’t even kill a bunch of sniffling little children with your own hands. You had to use _mine_.”

               William’s tone, when he was allowed to reply, was dark and cold. “Says the one who didn’t try to stop me.”

               “It’s a trade-off, Afton.” William realized that his words were being ignored as Spring elaborated on that thought. “You can hide yourself from the cops, from your friends and partner, but you can’t hide from _me_.”

               “Nor can you from me, Spring. Especially not now.”

                “I figured that out already. Why do you think I started talking to you? I don’t have the patience to ignore you uninterrupted for, _shit_ , we’ll probably be here _forever_. So I wanted to make it clear we’ll be spending that forever on _my_ terms, because I’ve already had to put up with yours.”

               _Forever_. Before William stepped foot into this room for the last time, he would have liked that. Now, he felt the creep of dread as though the children had returned.

               No, not forever.

               “I always come back,” William said. “I always _win_.”

               “Dying is a pretty fucking definitive loss,” Spring replied. “So learn to _take it_.”


End file.
